Friday, January 20, 2012
Religion and/or Jesus
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Faith And Science
![]() |
| Shhh! I'm balancing my chakras! |
| Pictured: Not Falling |
![]() |
| You are... here? |
![]() |
| Cosmic Sciency Death Machine? |
![]() |
| The Rainbow Colored Building Blocks Of The Universe... |
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Sushi
October was a busy month. I caught 7 babies. With this catch I’ll be at 48! I’ve caught nearly as many babies in these last 4 months as I did in my entire first year of school.
Other than catching babies I didn’t do a whole lot. I went to the beach a couple of weeks ago. Basically just napped the whole time I was there. It was nice to just sleep. I’ve never appreciated sleep as much as I do now.
I spend a lot of time working on assignments at Starbucks. It’s kind of a comfort thing. It’s nice to have somewhere that feels a bit like home. Actually, the entire new mall that opened up in May feels like home. I go there and walk around when I need to feel normal, which is a lot lately.
I found a Japanese place I like quite a bit. Dynamite rolls are the bomb. Hehe. Actually Heidi and I are planning to poke around Japan for a week or so on our way home in July. We’re planning on going to the Studio Ghibli museum which is a really big deal for me! I also plan on finding Godzilla. Tokyo here I come in... 36 weeks! That’s weird. I have less than a full pregnancy left before I go home. Time goes by so fast here!
My brother may be coming to visit in April. I’m super excited for that! I really miss him and my family and it would be fun to show him around and stuff. He’d even possibly be here for graduation in May! And for the Avengers movie so I’d have someone to geek out with.
So... it turns out I make really good bread. Who’d have thought? So far I’ve made bagels, biscuits, and two different kinds of bread (One’s a quick bread, the other is a self rising bread) My rosemary bread never has any leftovers. I even made four loaves last time to try and make sure there’d be left overs! I really enjoy it. I’m making bread for Thanksgiving because that’s just how I roll. Hehe. Ok I’ll stop with the puns now. Maybe.
Hmmm... What else? My brain is fried. It’s 5:20 am and I’ve only had 2 hours of sleep. I’m going to try and rest for a little bit. My patient is 9 cm, but she’s sleeping in her cubical so I think I’ve got a little bit of time. As always thank you for your prayers and support! Letters and packages are always welcome!
Here’s some pictures of a friend and I enjoying some sushi!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
September
I’ve told you guys a few birth stories and so far, they’ve all been good. But, it’s not always like that. I transport a lot of patients to the hospital. I’ve probably transported more than I’ve delivered. Sometimes it’s easy. It’s a patient who is ok with being transported. You haven’t made any attachments to her. You’ve only spent 10-20 minutes with her while you were checking her in. Other times, it’s really hard. It’s a patient who, when you tell her that you’ve got to transport her, buries her face in your shoulder and starts sobbing because she is so scared. It’s a patient who you’ve labored with for the last 8 hours and have really connected with. It’s a continuity that you’ve done all her prenatals for since she was 7 weeks pregnant. Those are hard.
I’ve had a couple of difficult transports in the last couple of weeks. My first one wasn’t a labor, it was a baby check. I’d delivered the baby a couple of days before. The mother was this really adorable 16 year old. It’s interesting with 16 year olds. Some of them who come in, they’re women. They’re grown up. Others are really still just kids. This is one of the ones who was just a kid still. She labored really well. The birth was a little difficult. The baby was a bit stuck because the girl’s perineum was really tight and we were sure that we were going to have to do an episiotomy. In the end, we didn’t have to. I thought for sure her tear would be huge, but it was actually really small. In the end, I was really proud of this girl.
So, on Sunday, they came in for their 3 day baby check. Everything seemed normal, until I checked the baby’s heart rate. It was 68. The average for a baby’s heart rate is about 120-140. I called the supervisor to have her recheck. She got 80. With massive amounts of stimulation we could get it up to 116. Something wasn’t right. We explained to the girl and her mother that something was wrong with the baby’s heart and they needed to go to the hospital to have it looked at. So I went with them to the emergency room and staid until I was sure that they were getting care. I’m still waiting to hear back on what the doctor says. I should know next week when they come for their one week baby check.
My second hard transport was a few nights later. I was endorsed a patient when I got to swing shift. It was a really sweet 38 year old. It was her fifth baby. Her second baby had been born in the hospital and was a still birth. Her last two babies were born at Mercy. I labored with her for all of shift. She was great! She was walking around, drinking, going to the bathroom often. She was happy and talkative between contractions, joking with the midwifes and baby checks who were there. She was a perfect labor. Anything I asked her to do she did. I had really good feelings about this birth.
Around 7:30 she was in a lot of pain and her contractions were really frequent. I went and sat with her in her cubical and just rubber her back. Then I asked her if I could pray for her. She said yes and I did. Just as I finished my prayer, she asked for a birth stool. I was so excited! Usually the women here want to give birth flat on their back. When they want to give birth squatting or on the birth stool it’s always a special treat. It’s a more natural position than laying down. They’re less likely to tear. And it’s just a nice change up from what we usually see. So we get her on the birth stool. I get a mirror and flashlight so I can see what’s going on. She pushes a little with contractions and I see what looks like her bag of water. My supervisor is holding the flashlight for me and she says that it looks a little funny. So she repositions the flashlight so we can see a little better. It’s definitely not the bag of water. It’s her bladder. Our first response to such a distended bladder this late in the game is to catheterize. So we did that and then just tried to hold the bladder up. I was having trouble holding it though so my supervisor decided to help me out. She took over. The moment she slid her fingers in she went, “Something’s wrong.”
The woman wasn’t fully dilated, but neither I or my supervisor could really tell how far along she was. Her cervix was mushy and flappy and strange. The supervisor speculated that it was possibly a previously torn cervix that hadn’t been sutured. Either way, we just aren’t equipped to deal with what we were up against. The baby’s head would come down well with pushing, but it would get caught against the bladder and cervix. If she kept pushing there was a possibility that her bladder would rupture. So we explained to her that we were going to have to transport. She cried. I wanted to cry. I was now doing three things at one time. I was trying to coach her in breathing through contractions, help the supervisor put an IV in, and help a first year fill out transport papers. Finally, we were able to get the woman into a wheelchair and to the ambulance. On the way to the hospital I could see how scared she was. I’m pretty sure it was because the last time she gave birth in the hospital, her baby was stillborn. I did the only thing I could at that point. I reached my hand over and placed it ok her belly and just prayed. I prayed that she would have peace. I prayed that the doctors would have wisdom and compassion. I prayed that her delivery would go well and that both her baby and her would be fine. When I was done, she looked at me through her tears and thanked me. I told her that I was so sorry there was nothing else I could do, but I would continue to pray for her. That seemed to help calm her.
We got to the hospital and I explained the situation to the doctor. The doctors have always been pretty nice to me and this time was no different. They took my patient and got her to the birth bed immediately. The doctor told me I could go. I went back to the ambulance and just continued to pray for the woman. Sometimes there’s nothing else you can do.
So there you have it. Yes, there are good births and good shifts. There are also hard births and hard shifts. There are so many situations that only prayer gets you through. And that’s not just midwifery, that’s with missionary life in general.
Ok. Enough about the birth room. Here’s what I’ve been up to other than babies. I went to the beach with one of the first years on Saturday. We spent the entire afternoon laying in hammocks, eating deep fried bananas, and drinking coke. It was exquisite. Afterwards, around dinner time, we went to Precious Gardens Resort for dinner.

We ate down on the beach. Our waiter was great! He was a Baptist who had a million questions for us. We ate our dinner and just talked with him about God and the Bible and everything. There were a few times when he started tearing up. It was really refreshing to have a genuine conversation with a Filipino and know that he wasn’t just talking to me because I’m white. He was very sincere with us and I really appreciated it. He also told me that I have a nice smile.
Other than that I’ve been pretty busy with my assignment and birth room shifts. I caught six babies in September! Five of them were within two weeks of each other! So I’ve been pretty busy!
My birthday was last week. I didn’t really do much. But hey, I’m 21 now... I don’t really have any plans until after I’m finished with this assignment, but I’m probably going to the beach for a couple of days. I could use a break. As always, thank you all for your prayer and support! It’s all greatly appreciated!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The Truth About Missionary Life
I’m beginning to realize how important like-mindedness is. Not, I don’t mean conformity, but having someone who shares your passions and same basic goals.
I want to be a missionary. More than anything. I want to live in a mud hut, tree hut, wigwam, tent, trailer, truck, cardboard box. I don’t ever see myself “settling down” and living in one place in a four bedroom house with a dog and a picket fence. I have too much wanderlust for that. I get too bored. I see myself traveling for the rest of my life.
I want to live in the jungle, the desert, deepest, darkest Africa or Asia, or South America. I want to live in the heat and the dirt with no air conditioning or running water. I want to live in the hardest places in the world. The kind of places that most people try to stay away from. It’s those places that my heart breaks for.
I want to live with the minimum. A lifestyle of simplicity appeals to me. I have no need for excess. I find it superfluous. (I find it funny that the word for ridiculously excessive is excessively ridiculous. All I need is a change of clothes, food in my belly, and something to keep the rain off. Well... more or less. Either way, I’ve lived with nothing before. I know what it’s like to live with only what I can fit in a suitcase. And that appeals to me. If it doesn’t bring beauty to my life or have a useful purpose, I don’t need it.
Jesus sent out His disciples two by two. It’s a biblical model. However, finding my “two” has proved to be much harder than I would have suspected. No, Robert and I are not together any more. Why? Read those last three paragraphs again. It had nothing to do with whether or not I loved him or he loved me or how good of a guy he is (Because he’s a great one). It has everything to do with those three paragraphs. That’s not where his heart is. Our basic life goals were different. I need someone called to missionary life.
Let me tell you what missionary life is like. In church, you hear the stories of the miracles and the sweetness of the orphan kids and what it’s like to live in the glory. Yes. There is that. But let me tell you what it looks like to those who live in it every day. It’s dirty and ugly and hard. I know I talk a lot about it being the hardest thing I’ve ever done. That’s an understatement.
Daily life on the mission field? It’s hot. It’s dirty and sweaty and smells like raw sewage and garbage and rotting meat and far too many people crammed together in one city. It’s living without basic comforts like hot water or most dairy products or air conditioning. It means that if it pours rain and it floods, you have to walk 2 miles home in the rain and flood water. It means that if you fall into a sewage ditch because you can’t see through the flood water, you have to drag yourself out of it and walk the rest of the 1.5 miles home even though you’ve sliced your foot open and your textbooks and laptop are wet. (I’m fine by the way. I took lots of medication to make sure I didn’t die.) And you have to hold it together for that mile and a half because sitting down on the sidewalk and sobbing won’t get you home. It means staying up for 32 hours with only an hour of sleep because you have a patient to take care of. Missionary life is not pretty or romantic. It’s not all seeing people come to Christ and miracles every day. Mostly, it’s dying to yourself. It’s messy and hard.
I’m not complaining here. Strange as it may seem it’s the life I want to live. It’s the life I’ve been called to live. And I need someone who is called to that as well. I need someone who is called to give up absolutely everything, every comfort to follow God to the dark places. Not everyone is called to that. Some people are called to the Western world. Stars above, those places need missionaries just as bad as anywhere else. But it’s not where I’m called to. It never has been. I’m called to nothingness.
I am called to have nothing, to be nothing. I am called to have no reputation other than Jesus. Jesus is my reputation. The reason I love Heidi Baker so much? When she walks into a room, Jesus is there. He exudes out of her. He oozes from her very being. I want that. When I walk into a room, I don’t want people to see me. I want them to see Jesus. I don’t care if they ever know my name. I just want them to know Jesus. I want to be a tool, a vessel. I want God to empty me out so that I can be filled with Him. I want to be nothing so that He can be everything.
This isn’t a “less of me, more of God” idea. I feel like He created us to be ourselves. I want to be me to the best of my abilities. I really like me. However, something that is built into who I am, is being filled with Him. It’s all of me and all of Him. Does that make sense? I can only fully be myself if I am fully filled with Him. That’s where the fullness of me come from.
Anyways, that just all kind of came tumbling out... haha. On a lighter note, here are some pictures from the outreach I go on to a nearby island! (LINK)
Also, my birthday is in 1 month a 4 days! Better start sending your packages now! It takes a month for them to get here!
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Back in Davao...
| Drove me a lot crazy actually |
| Ain't we cute? |
| The face I make when the post parakeet comes... |
Friday, May 20, 2011
To The Bukid! (And back)
5-17-11 Evening
5-18-11 Morning
5-18-11 Still morning
5-18-11 Evening
5-19-11 Evening
5-20-11 Evening




